


Lorney Tunes

by orphan_account



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Flash Fic, Gen, Lorne - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-13
Updated: 2005-09-13
Packaged: 2017-10-11 18:01:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/115290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	Lorney Tunes

Bang, start with a bang, and a girl running. That's the way to keep them keen baby. Rain, make it rain and a dark alley looming. Or how about a long pan through the set? Give me tables and small details and a smooth run from the stage to the green room. Behind the scenes, yeah, show don't tell: that's the golden rule. It's all about the exhibition. Dance with me.

It never starts with a bang, not really, but the fiction is more satisfying. Satisfaction always leaves you wanting more. That's the great thing about this gig, this lifelong carnival.

It's a game you can only win by not playing. Mmmm, sit me on those sidelines sweet thing. I got a great view from here.

You know I never learned to drive? Lived in this shiny ball of hail-to-the-motor for eight damn years and never learned to drive. It's a cunning ploy. Just working on my diva here. Walk on by.

It's all about the coat; you get that, right? I can have you down by the cut of your cloth and I'm not talking metaphors, I'm talking menswear. One thing no bitch can mess with is my style-guide. I had my boy Angel pegged in a heartbeat, mine anyway, and he's never strayed. Predictable as a vamp in leather, soul boy sang that hero tune. Heroes, what can I tell you? I've known a few and, oh _mama_ , do they take some swallowing.

Everybody likes a compliment. Wrap those harsh words up in a bow and bake them in a Danish. You know it never does to come right out and say it. Girl, people hear what they want to hear and nothing you tell them makes a goddamm bit of difference. But, you make them feel pretty, they feel pretty made. It's a small, good thing and I'm good at it.

I lived in hell for a while. I got better. Don't hear me complaining about this place do you? No! That's 'cause I lived in hell! My family was from hell. Literally. Remind me to tell you about my mother sometime. Now there was a lady who could make you feel like life was worth living--if only long enough so your last memory wasn't her shining presence.

I like to sing. The sound of music makes me tingle in my sweet and lowdown. Oh yeah, I love the music. You know that saying, hell has all the best music? I'm telling you swingers, it's so much worse than that.

So here I am; gimme a shot of empty tables; pan across from the stage to the green room. Linger on an abandoned game of chess. Gimme a closed door and an open window, but mercy, don't make it rain.

No amount of scrubbing's ever going to make these hands clean.


End file.
